


Joy to the World

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Caretaker Dean, Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates watching newly human Castiel get hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joy to the World

**Author's Note:**

> Written by sunshinewinchesters  
> Beta'd by Astrophilla
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, human Castiel, established Castiel/Dean
> 
>  
> 
> **The second installation of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

One of the hardest parts about Castiel being human is having to watch the world leave marks on him that he no longer has the grace to heal. Nothing breaks Dean’s heart as bad as the sight of such a formerly powerful being on his knees in the dirt, cradling a broken wrist to his chest with such an innocent look of bewildered pain. Suddenly Cas seems like the most fragile thing, and everything’s in danger of hurting him. Dean hates it, hates seeing the sadness and confusion in Cas’ eyes as he witnesses such a human brand of pain, the ancient strength of his grace no longer able to protect him from the destruction of flesh and bone. Dean has to protect him, _needs_ to protect him from something that he’s spent his whole life brushing off, as it’s a common part of the hunt. Yet somehow, it’s so much different with Cas than it is with him. 

A gash in the angel’s cheek is like a lost limb when Dean sees the blood flowing down Cas’ face in crimson rivulets, too dark red and his eyes too bright blue against his pale skin. A gash in Dean’s cheek is no bigger a deal than a paper cut, but he can’t help but lose his shit when the same thing he wouldn’t bat an eye at if it were himself happens to the angel. That’s why bringing Cas along for hunts has Dean’s anxiety levels skyrocketing, the hunter vigilant and watchful as ever with his eyes constantly straying to Cas, always checking to make sure he hasn’t been harmed. He’s been an angelic warrior since the beginning of time and hasn’t failed to remind Dean of just that when his concern would show through too much, but that doesn’t stop Dean from realizing just how fragile and delicate human bodies—specifically Cas’—can be. 

It’s brought to his attention once again, though this time, they aren’t in the thick of a fight. Dean’s pulling Baby up outside of the bunker, leaving her out so that Sam can get in and head to get groceries now that they’ve returned from interrogating a suspect for a potential case. Cas is one step ahead of him, already swinging the door open and stepping out onto the icy pavement before Dean can even take the key out of the ignition. “Careful, it’s—” Dean’s warning is cut off by the sight of Cas taking a few steps forward then slipping hard on the ice, falling backwards with a grunt that has that now very familiar worry swelling up in the hunter’s chest. “Shit, Cas.” Dean climbs out and hurries around to Cas’ side, concern coloring his words as he crouches down and helps Cas sit up, one hand at the small of his back while the other cups the side of his face. “Are you okay? I was gonna say it’s slippery, but then you went and proved my point before I could get it all out.” Dean frowns as Cas blinks up at him, his brows drawn together and eyes shocked as they always are when he experiences pain. He holds out his hands, palms up, and Dean’s stomach clenches at the blood smeared over the heels of his hands, streaked over the ragged skin torn from the concrete.

“It’s okay, buddy, they’re just scrapes. Let’s get you fixed up,” Dean says reassuringly, kissing the top of Cas’ head after gently brushing away the bits of dirt and gravel embedded into the lacerations so he can see. They’re shallow, nothing too bad, but the look on Cas’ face—surprise, bewilderment, forced stoicism, hurt—makes it seem ten times as bad. Dean’s had plenty of practice patching up Sam’s and his own scrapes over the years, because kids fall a lot and pavement isn’t ever forgiving. This is different, though; different because it’s Cas. Cas changes everything. Dean helps him up, keeping one arm securely fastened around his waist to prevent another fall, and guides him into the bunker. The way Cas holds his hands close to him, still facing up with the blood pooling in his cupped palms makes his heart ache. He looks so _vulnerable_. Dean leads him to sit down at the table, promising he’ll be right back and returning with one of their many first aid kits. When he comes back, fussing over whether or not he should use the antiseptic because it’ll make the wounds hurt a lot worse, Cas gives him a tiny smile and remarks, “I may be human now, but I’m not quite that fragile.” Dean looks him in the eyes, dropping onto his knees next to him so he can better reach Cas’ hands without having to bend over. 

“I don’t care if you’re human or not. I’m still always gonna take care of you when you get hurt and you’re gonna let me, goddammit.” Cas’ eyes soften at that and he watches Dean’s face the whole time he cleans the blood away and dabs on antiseptic, wincing at the sharp inhalation Cas takes as it begins to sting. 

Dean hums quietly as he works, taking care to pat the areas around the scrapes dry before he starts bandaging them. Cas keeps his breathing steady and doesn’t once make any pained sounds nor complain that it hurts—Dean wonders if it’s because he still feels the need to appear strong and untouched by trivial human things such as cuts and scrapes. Once he’s done, Dean places a kiss on each palm, his eyes locked with Cas’ as he does so, and Cas’ quiet huff of laughter and small smile makes Dean’s chest loosen up a bit. “Thank you, Dean,” Cas rumbles, leaning in to press his lips to Dean’s. Their kiss is quick but it’s enough for Dean to understand how grateful Cas is for something that was no trouble at all.  
“No problem, Cas,” Dean replies, kissing the tip of Cas’ nose as he stands up and stretches out his back, giving his knees a break from kneeling. “I know what’ll make you feel better! Some hot chocolate.” Cas perks up at that, and Dean grins, never ceasing to find Cas’ infatuation with all things chocolate endearing. The angel starts to get up to help, but Dean shakes his head, gently pushing him back into his chair. “I got it, buddy. You just relax a bit,” Dean winks at him and then busies himself with preparing Cas a steaming mug of the hot beverage. 

Once it’s done, Dean hands the mug to Cas, who takes a sip and makes a delighted noise in the back of his throat, which of course has Dean chuckling fondly. “It’s delicious, thank you, Dean. For everything,” Cas says, lips hovering above the rim of the mug. Dean hears the connotation in the last few words and smiles, dropping into the chair next to Cas’ and patting his thigh.  
“Thank _you_ for letting me take care of you,” Dean replies, eyes and heart warm as Cas does that unfairly adorable crooked smile and takes another drink of the hot chocolate.  
No, he’s not going to break apart at the slightest bruised knee or scraped hand, but that doesn’t mean Dean’s ever going to stop watching out for him or patching him up when something does happen. Human or not, Dean’s gonna take care of him.


End file.
